


Babylon 5 Drabbles

by Jameson9101322



Category: Babylon 5
Genre: Drabble Collection, Gen, b5drabbleproject
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-08
Updated: 2019-01-14
Packaged: 2019-09-13 22:42:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16901211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jameson9101322/pseuds/Jameson9101322
Summary: Entries for the B5 Drable Project on tumblr: https://b5drabbleproject.tumblr.com/Visit the tumblr for prompt lists.Each entry is exactly 100 words long. Prompt will be listed as chapter title.





	1. Chapter 1




	2. Vision

Centauri have visions of significant futures – which are often death, apparently. I dream of my death every night, but I have dreamed of others’ as well. And battles. And loss. It is a way for the Universe to speak without words, because we are thick headed and short sighted and distrust words in general. And ourselves, too, as we age. I have lived my whole life fighting against death or resigned to death. I gave it power over me. Yet, never would I have believed the vision would become a visit from a friend every night. Reprieve. In my loneliness.


	3. Zima

Friends from high-school were not something Garibaldi had many left of. So when Horace visited Babylon 5, he made time.

“Hey, Mike! Lemme buy you a drink!”

Garibaldi spun his water class. A lot had changed. “I’m good, thanks.”

“That?” Horace laughed. “Ole Liver-toaster Garibaldi? Come on, get some sauce!”

“It's sauce.”

“What, not vodka? Not after junior year.”

“No it’s uh…” Garibaldi sipped. “Zima.”

“What?”

Garibaldi pointed to the illuminated sign. “Zima.”

“Wow.” Horace gawked. “How OLD is that stuff?”

“I like it skunky.”

Horace whistled. “MikeyG, Liver-toaster to the end.” 

Garibaldi snorted and drank deep. “You’ve no idea.”


	4. Attache High Jinks

“I don’t think we’re supposed to be up here.”

“Yes, it was cordoned off.”

“Do you two do everything you’re told?”

“Yes, it is the way of my caste to show honor through obedience.”

“And if I don’t Londo will yell at me.”

“Stay behind if you wish. I intend to cover every vantage point. Cords and signs be-damned.”

“Wait! We can’t let you go on your own. You might fall!”

“Nonsense, a Narn never falls.”

“Do the Narn ascend catwalks?”

“Shut up.”

“Wow… You guys, look down.”

“Astonishing. Five miles seems so small from up here.”

“And everyone alike.”

  



	5. Sweaters

“So, I got everyone souvenirs.” Stephen whipped out a duffelbag and tossed the three alien ambassadors and other members of Babylon 5 command staff colorful turtleneck sweaters. 

Zack snatched his out of the air. “Aw sweet!”

Sheridan raised an eyebrow. “Seriously?”

“They’re hand-stitched in the alps!” Stephen cheered. He noticed Londo examining the tiny neck hole beneath his wide crest of hair and winced. “Oooh, didn’t think of that.”

He looked up and smirked. Without a word, he pulled the sweater over his Ambassadorial garb, hair emerging perfect with a near audible “boing.”

“Wow!” Ivanova said.

Londo winked. “We manage.”


	6. Always

“When we met, I thought I was crazy.” John searched the milky way reflected in her eyes. “You were everything they told me to hate, but one look and it was love.”

“It was the human half,” Delenn said. “You would not have loved me if I were pure Minbari.”

She was resigned, but the starlight twinkled in gathering tears. Beauty existing long before it reached the perfect woman before him. John took her hand. “I loved you as long as you were you. Before and after we met. Always.”

The tears dried, but the sparkle remained. A smile. “Always.”


	7. Treadmill

Susan was uneasy in zero gravity, but it was good for pilots – and core strength – so she was training. Tethered by her waist, she forced her legs to meet the belt. Stomping down and down and down, feet still barely tapping. No pound. No pull. The belt didn’t hold her. 

Anxiety bubbled. Susan kept running to escape the fear of space – to find stability – but her impacts only propelled her upward. She slammed her feet down, but the spinning belt snagged her floating shoelace. Tugged ankle. Pop. Swelling started as running stopped and Ivanova floated, turning slowly in empty space.  



	8. Comfort

G’Kar burst into HQ. “Where is he!?” 

Garibaldi indicated the back door and G’Kar ran, impacting it with his shoulder. It burst open and Londo and Franklin jumped. G’Kar expected to see a body bag, but Londo sat halfway off the table, reviewing test restuls over the doctor’s shoulder. 

Londo straightened. “What’s wrong?”

Without speaking, G’Kar took his dearest friend in both arms, holding as tight as he could. His racing heart slowed as ‘safety’ sank in. 

Londo measured G’Kar’s breaths against his chest, withheld protest, and returned the hug. Words helped, but sometimes the best response was holding on.


	9. Illness

Londo locked all the doors and cocooned himself in blankets. Fever shook him head to toe. After 24 hours of dull agony, he opened his eyes to find a woman beside him on the bed.

A hallucination. It had to be. Londo gasped. “Adira?”

“Yes, my love?”

“But… how?”

She cocked her head. “Does it matter?”

Londo pressed his dry lips tight. “No.” He crawled up into her lap – she was warm as if she were real – and hugged her around the waist. Adira cradled him in one arm, stroking stray hairs back into his crest until he slept again.  



	10. Goks

“Goddamn Goks!!!” Sheridan shouted. He kicked over an empty trashcan and fifteen of the things leaped, squawling from beneath his deck.

“Serenity, John,” Delenn warned from the window.

He inspected his tomato plants. They grew poorly in the Minbar soil, but even worse with a thousand tiny teethmarks all over them. “The Goks killed another one.”

“This is their world, not the tomatiis.”

“Tomatoes.”

“My point remains.”

“I grew up on a farm, Delenn,” John pouted. “It makes me feel… grounded.”

“Then perhaps you should grow Minbari vegetation, instead?”

He frowned. “Suggest that again and I’m getting you a cat.”


	11. Caste

Neroon stared at himself in the polished glass. Black robes. Armored chest. Angular bone. It was what he recognized as “him.” Raised since birth in the Warrior caste, his life was tactics and strategy. He was proud. Revered. Yet his heart ached for more. Not more. Other.

Such thoughts were wrong. He knew his place. Should he be ashamed of his many accomplishments? Throw out his heritage? He started a war for this! Tipped the balance! This garb was a definition – in it he knew who he was.

Still, if he squinted, the points of his head bone looked smooth…


End file.
